


Angsty Batfamily and Young Justice Ficlets

by dandylionsummer



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Acts Of Desperation, Amnesia, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Batfamily Angst (DCU), Birdflash - Freeform, Brotherly Love, Caught, Danger, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluffy Angst, Hurt!Wally, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Kidnapping, Mission Gone Wrong, Mortal wounding, Protective Batfamily (DCU), Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Roy Harper, Random lessons in chemical compounds, Rescue, Rescue Missions, Thanks Wals, Worried Batfamily (DCU), angsty fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:54:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 7,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23160544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandylionsummer/pseuds/dandylionsummer
Summary: Dumping some unfinished works and drabbles/ficlets/vignettes here. I'll update the tags as I add abandoned pieces.Let me know if you're interested in seeing one more fleshed out and it just might motivate me ;)
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Roy Harper, Dick Grayson & Wally West, Dick Grayson/Wally West, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	1. Tim & Damian & MIA hurt!Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is missing and hurt and Tim and Damian need to find him.

_What is that idiot Drake hiding???_

Damian used every curse he could come up with, in every language he knew, as he made his way to Tim’s location, checking his tracking device frequently to confirm that only the red beacon was visible and that the blue was still MIA… _He said he found Grayson, but..._

When Tim had said ‘just come’, Damian had practically vaulted over the chair in which he had been sitting in front of the batcave’s large computer, and dashed across the wide expanse of limestone to the batmobile. He didn’t think twice (let alone once) before starting the ignition and burning the tires out in an effort to rapidly leave the cave. Father and Pennyworth could fuck themselves if they tried to give him shit for taking it.

_Why on earth would Richard volunteer to patrol so readily with Drake? It’s practical certainty that something terrible would befall him in Drake’s incompetent presence…_

Damian tried to distract himself with mental banter that mimicked the kinds of things that he would normally say in front of Tim in order to purposefully anger him, but his heart wasn’t in it and his fear and pessimism were becoming more prominent in his mind, despite his every effort to belay them.

His fingers twitched and tightened on the steering wheel as he abruptly joined the asphalt from the gravel feeder road, the massive vehicle briefly fishtailing before righting and speeding towards the city.


	2. Dick & Jason brother moment (no capes au)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No Capes AU
> 
> Jason and Dick have a moment of brotherly bonding. Jason is sad because he thinks he's being replaced by a newly adopted Tim. 
> 
> Most of it is really Jason's background. 
> 
> The ages thing was a reference for me as I was writing, but alas, I have abandoned this work indefinitely...

Then  
Dick at 7  
Then Dick was 8  
Jason 7

Now  
Dick- 11  
Jason- 10  
Tim- 7

Eventually  
Dick- 16  
Jason- 15  
Tim- 12  
Dami- 8

Dick’s heart seized as an erratic jostling sent him hurling into consciousness, thrust out of his deep slumber. His eyes snapped open and his memory quickly vanished of any dreams he may have been having, whether they were good or bad, as he searched for the source of his frightening disturbance.

Despite the darkness of the room, his eyes quickly settled on the fuzzy red, fleece-clad knee beside him, and his eyes traveled upwards to find his younger brother, his small figure slumped against and dwarfed by the elaborately carved headboard of the massive wooden bed. His arms were crossed across his chest and his head tilted downward, face obscured in shadow.

“What’s the matter, Jay?” Dick asked, the remnants of sleep clinging to his vocal chords, making his voice sound groggy despite his mind’s abrupt awakening.

When Jason said nothing, Dick frowned. He pushed himself up with his hands and scooted his back towards the headboard, seating himself directly beside his younger brother.

“Hey,” he tilted his head, trying to get Jason to look at his face, his voice gentle and open. “Jason?”

“Talk to me, Jaybird,” Dick tried a moment later when still no reply came. “Please?”

More moments passed, and just as Dick was about to take a more aggressive tact, he heard a small sniffle, barely more than an inhale, but the tiny wet rattle was unmistakable in the quiet darkness of the room, and then Jason finally began to speak.

“It’s…” he started and then stopped. Dick was confused momentarily, about to inquire as to why he stopped, when he realized that Jason was silently hiccupping, using all of his willpower to keep his sobs from escaping, and his body was quaking with the effort.

“Hey, hey,” Dick whisper-crooned, reaching his arm behind Jason and pulling him closer, into Dick’s side. “Jay, what’s wrong?”

A few seconds later and Jason chanced speaking again, but this time his struggling grief was evident in his voice. 

“It’s like, like he replaced me,” Jason grit out, words quivering with the effort of restraining his fighting tears.

“Who replaced you?” Dick asked, genuinely lost as to what on earth his brother was referring.

“Bruce!” and this time, his voice cracked, and Dick could feel the dam collapsing as Jason’s shoulder shook against his ribs.

Oh. Oh.

Dick rubbed a hand soothingly along the top of Jason’s back, searching for the most reassuring thoughts to express. He did not want Jason to feel like this, although he understood now why he would.

When Dick had been eight, only a year and some months after Bruce had taken him in and adopted him after he’d lost his parents, Bruce had adopted Jason. 

At the time, Dick’s emotions had taken him on a wild rollercoaster ride through some pretty dark places, and he had had a difficult time figuring out how to escape the consuming maelstrom of jealousy and betrayal and self-doubt.

He understood why Jason’s heart and self-esteem, so damaged and slow to trust already, would immediately jump to the conclusion that he himself was not enough to satisfy. That he was not worthy of the love and the home he had been given. That he was somehow a disappointment. 

At the time he had been adopted, Jason had already survived a lifetime’s worth of arduous trials, some too cruel to dream of for anyone, let alone the tiny, emotionally tortured, begrudging seven year old that had arrived at the manor.

Jason had been ripped from his mother’s lawfully incompetent hands at the age of four, and had bounced through the system through several temporary foster homes, all while being fed and believing in the promise that he would be reunited with his mother soon. However, at the age of five, Jason was delivered onto the doorstep of a new and ‘indefinite’ foster family, and was informed, rather casually by his accompanying state social worker, that this change in plans was due to his mother’s passing. A drug overdose he later learned. 

In his shocked state, he was introduced to his “new family” and congratulated by the man who was supposed to be a compassionate and caring representative of a system that purported to help children such as Jason. Not inflict incomprehensible emotional damage and flee the scene. 

He was left there, with these strangers and their three biological children, who Jason immediately understood, even in his young mind, were the rightful children of these guardians and would be treated significantly better than Jason could ever hope. Which he soon found out, was not that well at all.

Fortunately, Jason did not remain with the family from hell for very long. It only took two unannounced visits from the state’s social worker to deem the parents (already under investigation for fraudulent use of foster funding) unfit to provide further care. Although the varying care during the reprieve was not anything to to bask in, it was at least an improvement. Even if that wasn’t saying much.

The cruelest and final trick that fate had played on poor little Jason before he had found his way onto the imposing doorstep of Wayne Manor had at first seemed like a blessing, an answer to some unspoken prayer or wish. 

Jason had been officially adopted. The fostering family to which he was next assigned following a brief stint between families in a relic of a Catholic orphanage had been so taken with the whip-smart little cutie with the curling hair, big bluish eyes, freckles, and hint of an impish grin, that they had decided to adopt him. He had been polite and shy, and all reports of his behavior and attitude had been positive, despite the repeated notes from previous fostering parents which all read along the lines of ‘closed off’, ‘introverted’, and ‘difficult to connect with’.


	3. Hurt!Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick gets hurt and regrets it.
> 
> Also, the work comes with a (for free!) note that I had originally prefaced this story with. 
> 
> Apparently I had been having a shitty day or week a million years ago or whenever this was from. Fun artifact!

Today, my depression/anxiety/general horrible feelings have taken an odd turn. On a day when all should be good in the world and I should feel happy, I feel nothing but regret for small, unimportant choices that I have made.

Fun stuff.

So, as per my usual coping, I wrote a dick fic. (lol, Dick Grayson fan fiction, for the intellectuals.)  
Actually, it’s really a drabble, but… just, dick fic. 

\--

Was there even a point to wishing he had chosen differently?

Acknowledging the fact that had he acted alternatively he would not be in this specific situation would not actually change anything. Nor would it help in any other way.

Yet, it’s all one can really seem to do when they realized they’ve fucked up severely.

So here he was. Bleeding out on the roof of some goddamn building. Too weak to save himself.

Knicked femoral artery that saw too much action during the fight. Blood loss severe and swooning to ensue in 3...2...there it was.

-  
-  
-

“He’s waking up. Dick, can you hear me?”

Dick blinked bleary eyes uselessly. The lights were too bright, the meds too strong, and the people too blurry.

“Whuh..?” was all he could manage in the way of language.

“You lost a lot of blood, but you got a transfusion. You’re going to be okay.” 

Bruce. It was Bruce. 

Of course Dick recognized his voice. He just...hadn’t heard it sound like that in years. 

Soft. Concerned. Considerately gentle?

“Bruce.” He was pretty sure he formed the name correctly. Damn these pain killers were...no wait. Blood loss. Whatever. Woozy.


	4. Jason rescues Hurt!Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason responds to Dick's distress call.

When Jason finds Dick, he’s hunched over and is trying (and failing) to stand up. Jason approaches from behind and he can see Dick’s lungs heaving from the angle, causing his ribcage to expand and show through his suit with every heavy inhale. He’s got a hand on the wall, trying to steady himself or use it for leverage or both, but his legs are shaking and his knee gives out before it has even allowed him to rise.

They had all gotten the distress call, but Jason had been the closest to Dick’s coordinates. 

Despite having hightailed it over as fast as he could, it had still taken him a while to get there, and although Jay was confident that Dick could hold his own and take care of himself- call for help or not, that knowledge did nothing to alleviate the tension that had started to develop in his gut, growing with every minute that he still hadn’t arrived.

“Nightwing,” Jason says as he drops down to one knee, facing Dick. When Dick raises his head and looks at him, Jason inhales sharply at the sight. “Come on, can you stand?” He recovers quickly (because it’s necessary) and wraps an arm around Dick’s back while maneuvering Dick’s arm across Jason’s shoulders, holding it there by the wrist. Once Dick is fully supported, Jay grunts and lifts them both to their feet.


	5. Dick & Wally in Peril

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin and Kid Flash have been caught.
> 
> Also, lol, I must have researched polymer at some point... ? I have no recollection of this.

_Polymeric foam_ , Wally’s inherent chemical analysis told him, second nature now due to the extensive body of knowledge housed in his brain on all earth-based elements and molecules; _probably silicone-based, solid and cured, so, non-lethal_.

He struggled as the mass was forced into his mouth, eyes widening along with a sharp intake of breath through his nose despite his brain’s conclusion that the invasive mass alone would not harm him.

It sought every crevice, molding along the top of his teeth and fitting snugly against his gums, adhering to the roof of his mouth with alarming sureness. The foam-mass reached just far enough into the back of his throat to tickle and tease in an unshrinking effort to incite his gag reflex, which took the entirety of his focus for several moments and some heavy nose breathing to suppress. Once it calmed, he glanced over to find that his fellow captive teammate was not faring quite as well in that department. Dick’s face behind his domino was reddened and his chest heaving, as if he had lost that battle briefly and had struggled with the consequence of not having either the ability to breathe nor to vomit for an uncomfortably close amount of time. Wally watched, one eye on his best friend, one on their captors, as Dick finally claimed control once more over his faculties both physical and mental, no longer thrashing against the fear of choking to death, recovering the rhythm of his breathing. A moment later, he too was looking over at his friend to ensure his safety, and then quickly refocusing on the threat before them.

They were on their knees, arms bound behind their backs. An inhibitor collar had been slapped on Wally some time ago and the whole thing just felt a little too _insightful_ to be a lucky coincidence for these thugs.

With phasing or vibrating out of his bonds out of the question (not to mention those other handy powers he had come to rely on, like oh say, super fast healing), things were looking a bit more dire than either of the young heroes felt comfortable with.


	6. Dick & Damian   Amnesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amnesia ficlet.  
> Platonic Dd with a hurt/comfort thing going on but mostly mushy goop. Jason and Tim are stage props.  
> Angsty fluff or fluffy angst?

“DRAKE! TODD! WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

The exclamation interrupted the line of questioning that had been taking place below.

Dick’s blue eyes widened as he watched a young boy in a dark green hooded sweatshirt and track pants descend the darkened stairwell at a bolt to rush towards the trio in the strange cavern’s medical bay.

“Grayson!” he shouted as he ran the last few yards, stopping short just before crashing into the gurney on which Dick sat with his legs hanging over the side, flanked on either side by Jason and Tim. His eyes flicked to each of the standing men for the briefest but deadliest of glances before returning to the seated man’s face. “Are you…Do you.. remember me?”

…

There was a suspenseful silence that followed, and Tim watched in mild shock as Damian’s usually guarded face displayed all of his emotions as he watched Dick studying him, terrified, breath held as he awaited the possibly traumatizing response.

“I need to…” Dick started, and then averted his gaze downwards, shaking his head as if to clear it. He looked back up, confusion and embarrassment readable in his expression. “I have a really strong urge to hug you,” he said, with a slight lilt at the end, sort of a question. Briefly, his eyes sought Tim’s face for some sort of indication that this was alright, because honestly it felt weird to say to this kid even though it was the truth. However, Tim was not looking at Dick any longer. He was now watching the boy with a concerned intensity.

Dick’s gaze returned to the boy before him. Was his reaction important? He gathered it was.

The boy was silent. His eyes had grown wider when Dick had spoken and he was obviously struggling with something regarding the situation.

The two men he was with, Tim and Jason they had told him, had tried to explain what was happening. Who he was, why he was wearing such strange clothes, where they were taking him…but it was all crazy. None of it sounded real.

But this? This kid was unknown to him, yet something inside recognized him. That much was undeniable. This kid was evoking some sort of instinct. To protect, perhaps?

Suddenly, without warning, the child launched himself across the sparse feet separating them and buried his face into Dick’s chest as his arms snaked around his ribcage, hands fisting tightly onto whatever purchase they could make on the fitted black and blue suit.

Now it was Dick’s turn to be frozen with shock.

His eyes shot to each of the men standing beside him, appealing them, begging for more information or assistance with the current situation, but help was not forthcoming.

Each of them stood by, watching with what looked like slightly different mixtures of shock, curiosity, and methodical consideration.

Without any help from Tim or Jason, Dick realized that he was going to have to do something. This boy was obviously having some sort of strong emotional reaction to his apparent amnesia. He timidly brought his own arms up, gently guiding them around the boy in a returned embrace.

“I’m sorry that…” he was at a bit of a loss momentarily, “…this is difficult for you,” he said to the boy. “I’d…I’d like to help,” and yeah, that sounded like a dumb thing to say because it was his own loss of self identity and memory that was creating this problem. How the hell could he help if he didn’t know anything?

The arms wrapped around him squeezed tighter and Dick could feel the boy start to tremble.

Shit. He was just making things worse.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sighing heavily and hanging his head. He felt fucking useless.

Suddenly, Dick’s head snapped back upright. “DAMIAN.” That scent…fresh shampoo and sweat and something absolutely unique and undefinable.

The boy tensed and froze for several seconds, and then his grip released and his head whipped up to search Dick’s face.

“You remember??”

“Damian,” Dick breathed, smiling and shaking a little, as tears pricked at his eyes, despite being barely separated by time, distance, or mentality that night. He grabbed the boy and pulled him in swiftly, folding him into his arms. “You saved me.”


	7. Dick & Damian  Water under the bridge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DickDami platonic fic. Angsty comfort. Making up without words and fights don't matter when you love someone.
> 
> A hug from Dick makes everything better.

Damian sighed, looking out across the sparkling skyline. From where he was, perched atop a suspension tower on the thoroughfare better known as the Trigate Bridge, he had quite a view of Gotham.

With a weary eye, he cast a brief glance back over his shoulder towards the island from which he had come and the institution of dubious ethics that sat atop.

Arkham.

Damian’s masked eyes narrowed, drifting back over the dark and restless water, back towards the beckoning city’s lights. He tried not to think too much on the events that had transpired in the last four hours of his patrol. He was failing.

With a sudden resolve, Damian raised his hand to his ear, pressing against the comm there and activating the tiny device.

“Nightwing.”

A few beats later, his hail was answered.

“Thought you weren’t speaking to me.” There was no bite in the words despite their teasing intention and the memory of the heated argument of nights before that they called to mind. Dick’s voice was gentle and Damian could hear the fondness behind the statement. He inadvertently visualized the dimples and warm crinkled eyes that he knew accompanied that tone of voice, and suddenly felt much lonelier than the moment before.

A few moments passed, during which Damian searched for a response. He wasn’t even sure why he had called Dick. He only knew that he had needed to. “Send me your location.” Dick said, seeming to understand the language of suspended silences and their encompassed emotional depths better than Damian ever would.

Damian tapped at a panel in his glove, selectively un-jamming his location tracker so that Dick alone could find his coordinates.

–

As Damian waited, silently trying to will his restless mind to cease, to render it void of thought, he watched the water rolling towards the city on jagged little waves. The white peaks cresting reminded him, bitterly, of his own emotional state.

The sounds of the pop and zip of a grapple, followed by the metallic clink of a successful catch, seized his mind from its currently descending spiral and announced Dick’s arrival. A second later, the darkly clad man hopped onto the bridge turret where Damian sat and took a seat beside the boy currently donning his own, brighter former identity.

“Hey,” Dick spoke softly, warmly. There was that eye crinkling tone again, although Damian didn’t look to confirm.

Dick bumped a shoulder against Damian’s affectionately, but he didn’t say any more.

–

They sat, looking out across the water silently for a long time.

Eventually, Dick stole a glance down at his former protege and it was with seizing sadness that he noted the intense focus with which Damian bit his bottom lip and stared across the water, as if concentrating so intently on making his thoughts or feelings vanish. Dick had seen the facade of inner battle more times than one, unfortunately, and he wished that he could wipe clean the effects of whatever had transpired to make it appear on the beloved boy’s face now.

An arm wrapped around Damian’s shoulders and pulled him a little closer with it’s easy strength.

Dick heard the familiar tutting sound of disapproval that Damian often made when he displayed affection, but it was not followed by an attempt to disengage from the embrace. A moment later, Dick felt the weight of the young hero’s head lean in to rest upon his shoulder. It remained there for a long time.


	8. But who hugs Dick?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick's always a good big brother, there to help, support, or lend a hand. And obviously he's there to hug the doom and gloom out of his little Robin proteges. 
> 
> But, when things get dark, who hugs Dick?
> 
> This was written as more of an exploratory exercise with some headcanons. I wondered how it would go down if it was Dick who needed the support instead of others. It’s really less explored than the opposite canonically. Here’s my headcanon for each batbro when Dick is down.

Tim

Tim can always tell when there’s something wrong with Dick. Not only because he’s a super-creepin stalkerboy, but because they really are brothers. Like, Tim and Dick have the most brotherly relationship amongst all the batbros, and it’s because of how Tim came into Dick’s world and how Dick took him under his wing, and how Tim let him. At this point, they’ve known each other a long time and have been extremely close from the start– each of them wanting a brother out of the other since the beginning.

So, Tim just knows when Dick’s not himself. He knows him so well and there are so many tells– so many things that give him away when he’s faking a smile or forcing humor. But he had to fight Dick to get him to admit it. For the longest time, Dick was never honest with Tim about being upset or depressed or whatever. Tim would question him to no end and Dick would just deflect, deflect, lame joke to overcompensate, and deflect. It drove Tim ABSOLUTELY NUTS until he realized that although Dick treated him like an equal in absolutely everything else, this was the one holdover from the protective big brother era. Back then, Dick would always put on a brave face (read: impish smirk), say a dumb one-liner (that seemed too cool to the new little Robin), and handle the big problems. He never once made Tim feel like he couldn’t handle it all.

Eventually, the problems got bigger and Tim got less naive, and he could just tell that things were upside down for Dick, but Dick wouldn’t let go of the ‘everything’s fine, i’ve got this’ front. When Tim put two and two together and realized that he thought this was for _Tim’s_ benefit, he called the bullshit. “Cut the crap, Dick. We both know you’re not fine. I’m here. I’m able to help. Just fucking tell me what’s wrong so I can help.”

At first, Dick had been shocked as hell, but seeing Timmy’s assertive little determined face (that he knew would mean not backing down for anything, the know-it-all, stubborn little shit) he surrendered. He sat down, looking a little defeated, and told Tim everything.

Tim, being the good brother he is, listened attentively and offered his support and assistance in every way he could. After their talk was done, Dick had sheepishly apologized for not opening up so many times. Tim just pulled him in for a hug and reminded him to just not let history repeat itself.

Jason

Because of how Jason was ripped out of Dick’s life too early and then deposited back in as an angry, kind-of-trying-to-kill-him-or-at-least-maim-him, grown ass man, Dick has a few issues with vulnerability in Jason’s presence. Not physical vulnerability (because, c’mon, he’s _Dick Fucking Grayson_ ), but emotional vulnerability. If Jason hadn’t been taken from them so early on, it’s likely that their brotherly bond would have been a lot like Dick and Tim’s, but because of the events that went down and how Jason came back, that trajectory was thrown _wayyyyy_ the fuck off.

Even though it didn’t take long for Jason to get over the acts of hostility thing towards the rest of the batclan, the relationships didn’t immediately change back to friendly. It took a while to build back the trust on both sides, however a little less long for Dick than it was for Bruce…or Tim.

But, they were partly strangers now, and partly still had this shared history, albeit somewhat ancient. It was weird ground to be on and had absolutely no precedent, but somehow (through desire to do so on both sides), the two men navigated it pretty successfully and now have an established brother-ish relationship of sorts.

So, with the knowledge of Dick that he had a good amount of before the grave and pit, plus just being a rather intelligent guy who knows when he’s being bullshitted, Jason is able to spot a mopey Grayson pretty easily.

Sometimes he ignores it. Other times it seems little more serious (maybe because it’s affecting the idiot’s game and endangering Jason because he’s SUPPOSED TO HAVE HIS BACK, NIGHTWING), and that’s when he says something. Usually snarky but something that has to be acknowledged. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong so we can get back to task at hand, Goldie?”

Dick is not usually in a place to respond to this, but the little comment gets his head back in the game and out of his problems and they get their shit done.

When it’s over, Jason will suggest pizza or a beer or something like that, and Dick sometimes will agree. They don’t really talk about their problems directly (some topics are way too much of a minefield for Jason and Dick knows it), but they are still working through this whole rebuilding a relationship thing, so they’ll get there.

One time, Jason clapped his hand on Dick’s shoulder and squeezed it, and that’s about as close to a hug as he’s gonna get right now, but the resulting look of gratitude and something else (love?) from Dick was a reason why he might consider a hug in the future.

Dami

Again, another unique relationship, having been molded by the circumstances surrounding the current Robin’s arrival into Dick’s life.

When Damian showed up, Dick lost Bruce. That? That was a biiiiiiig deal. Also, he and Tim were not dealing with the situation in a compatible way (y’know, grieving versus searching tirelessly for clues as to his whereabouts) and Tim was barely speaking to him. That was fucking rough for Dick. He did _NOT_ know how to handle that well, and without Tim there to help as he was becoming accustomed to in his darker times, he just wasn’t handling it at all. Add in the fact that Dick lost his childhood home in the mix and had to stare at his lost father/brother/mentor’s face on an imposter’s body every day, shit was hitting the metaphorical fan.

Dick and Damian did not immediately form the respectful and loving bond that they now have, but once they took up the dynamic duo mantles, it evolved pretty quickly from there.

One night, Damian found Dick, hunched over, his face in his hands, and Damian kind of just stared and almost shat himself because, was Grayson _crying???_ Batman does _not_ cry.

But Dick had noticed him and quickly recollected himself (and he actually hadn’t cried, so he was able to play it off as a headache).

However, Damian was watching more closely after that, and it was starting to become obvious, despite not knowing him for long, that Grayson was suffering from all the loss and from Drake’s petty actions and Elliot’s idiotic audacity. Dami’s heart, without permission, began to go out to Dick a little then.

The next time Damian found Dick in a similar state, he quickly decided that he would be there for Dick. That Grayson deserved better than he was getting. Perhaps he just needed a friend.

Damian went to Dick then and just gently put his arms around him. He was somewhat startled when Dick’s arms embraced him tightly in return and just held him there a long time. Damian wouldn’t admit that he kind of liked the feeling of his mentor’s strong embrace, nor the fact that he liked knowing that he alone had supplied something that was needed and appreciated. They didn’t need to talk. Damian’s action of love and support was enough to help Dick to put things in perspective (as best he could) and keep on fighting the good fight for at least another night. Check points.

So it went on. Whenever Dick seemed out of sorts or depressed, Damian would go to him after patrol was over, and embrace the man who had taken him under his wing. Dick would never hide his feelings from Damian. How could he ever try? By then, his whole life felt defined by loss and who was he to reject any contact with love that was offered? Dick and Damian became bastions for each other during this dark time and would remain so after.


	9. Dick & Jay Rescue Tim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt: Tim gets captured and has to be rescued by Dick and/or Jason...fluff.

“Hood?” Tim said in surprise when he looked up to see not his captor’s thug, but his pseudo-brother’s red helmet.

“In the only slightly-moldy flesh,” he said with characteristic self-satire, dropping to his knees, hands immediately going to the chained locks ensuring Tim’s imprisonment.

The chains were tight, too tight, wrapped around Tim’s body and limbs, most definitely cutting off circulation in a dangerous way. Jason noted the mottled bruises coming to the surface of the exposed lower half of Tim’s face as well, as he picked the locks as quickly as he could, not trying to stick around to entertain more company. “You okay?”

“I’ll live,” Tim said, brushing off Jason’s concern quickly. He attempted to shift his body forward to give Jason better access to the locks, but Jason put a firm hand down on him, holding him in place.

“Don’t move,” he said. Who knows what kind of damage Tim might have sustained from the beating he had obviously been handed prior to being locked up.

Tim stilled obediently, watching Jason’s hands as they worked. “Hey, how did you know where I was?” He was suddenly very worried, realizing that there was no obvious reason for Jason to be involved in this particular case with Ra’s al Ghul. It was Dick who had been helping him…

“Nightwing,” Jason said, intently focused on his task. There! One lock down, only like, fifteen more to go…

“Where is he?” Tim asked, fear growing suddenly, uncertain as to why Red Hood would be there if Nightwing knew where to find him.

“He’s our next stop, kid, I promise,” Jason said, successfully relieving Tim of several more locks and providing blood flow back into his deprived and probably-aching limbs.

“Is he…?” Tim couldn’t finish the question.

“He’s fine. We got overtaken by a shit-ton of ninjas. Dickie-bird sent me on ahead.”

Tim settled a little with this information and the confidence with which it was delivered, but worry still rested heavily in the pit of his stomach. Ra’s and his forces were not the most incompetent of foes.

“Alright, babybird,” Jay said after another minute, relieving Tim of the rest of the chains. He stood and offered a hand to Tim who grasped it and allowed himself to be pulled upwards.

“Woah, kiddo!” Jason said, steadying Tim with his large hands as Tim stumbled.

“Can’t feel my feet,” Tim said, more embarrassed than concerned about it.

“It’s okay, I gotcha,” Jay said, sliding his arm around Tim’s back, supporting his weight as they walked out of the holding cell and through the maze of underground hallways that led to the upstairs and exit of Ra’s’ massive compound.

“Red! You good?” Nightwing’s voice came over the comm. in Jason’s ear. Tim’s comm. had been confiscated upon his capture, but he knew that his brothers would not be using the same frequency anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“All good in the hood, bigbird,” Jay said. “All set to bring babybird back to the nest.”

+++

It only took about fifteen flippin’ minutes to find their way back out of the stupid labyrinth of cellars, but the rest of the rescue mission went off without much more of a hitch. Yes, there were more ninjas, and yes, Dickie showed up and took care of them. Y’know, not because he’s so awesome, but because Jason kinda had his hands full with an injured Red Robin…

Once in the batplane (commandeered for the rescue, not stolen), and with the settings set on autopilot to fly them home, the two older heroes attended to their injured bird.

“Guys, I’m fine!” Tim attempted to dismiss their fussing concerns.

“Yer not fine, Timmy,” Jason said, wedging himself between Tim and the wall and bear-hugging him from behind as sort of a comforting restraint as Dick attended to his abundant wounds.

“Seriously,” Tim said, in only somewhat-genuine exasperation, actually feeling really relieved that they were all there in the plane, somehow safe.

“Gotta be more careful, babybird,” Dick gently chided as he cleaned the deep gash that Tim had gotten on his forehead. His mask having successfully hidden the injury and kept the blood at bay before. “B needs all the help he can get,” Dick attempted to crack a smile, but the effects of his worry for Tim’s wellbeing were still visible on his face and taking their toll.

Tim felt his heart pull a little tight, just then. He felt so lucky to be here. Not just then, but to be part of this. To be taken in and loved by this family, by these people. His brothers cared so much about him and were always there for him.

When Dick had finished cleaning and bandaging Tim’s cuts, Tim just kind of relaxed against Jason’s chest, where Jason still held him from behind on the floor. Dick snuggled up to their side, placing his head on Jason’s shoulder and wrapping a protective and loving arm around Tim.

They stayed like that the whole way back to Gotham, and truth be told, every night for the rest of the month, the others somehow always had an excuse to make it to Tim’s room to sleep like that again.


	10. Hurt!Wally, Dick, & Roy  Hurt/Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mission goes bad and Wally gets hurt. 
> 
> Written in response to this prompt: Birdflash, birdflash, birdflash pleeeaaassseeee with like massive angst (because I'm trash) with like Wally almost dying or something maybe some protective Barry/Roy or something?? ❤️ (btw I love your blog and writing)

_“Drink this,”_ Roy commanded roughly, his smoke-torn voice raspy. He threw an electrolyte-infused water vial at Dick from his belt before trotting cautiously back towards the burning wreckage of what was once their small, covert aircraft.

_How could one mission go so wrong in so many ways??_

Dick’s hands fumbled, barely catching the small capsule between trembling blue and black fingertips. Once grasped, he looked through bleary, watering eyes at the liquid, and then back down at the unconscious and wounded speedster over whom he knelt, hovering, feeling useless and desperate.

An idea sparked.

Although what Wally really needed was a steady stream of intravenous physiologic saline and urgent medical attention, Dick was not one to let a resource, _a chance_ , go to waste.

With dexterity that spoke levels of how much they had gone through physically during the ambushed assault, their hasty escape, underfire pursuit, and resulting crash, Dick’s shaking hand, with assistance from his teeth, finally succeeded in unscrewing the cap. He ripped off the lid and threw it to the side.

Breath held, praying to every god that he knew of that this would _help,_ he cradled the back of Wally’s head with a gentle hand, tilting him up ever so slightly, and cautiously poured some of the liquid between his open lips.

 _“NO.”_ Dick growled, as it dribbled out the corner of pink, scorched lips when he shifted his hand slightly. “Go **_in_** dammit!”

He tried again, his grip on his emotions tenuous and loosening with the increasing stress of the situation. This time, the tremors in his hand caused him to bump the vial against Wally’s bottom lip, resulting in a spill of the rapidly diminishing liquid supply down the slack freckled skin that was much more familiar when pulled taught in a bright and contagious smile.

“ **GODDAMNIT!** ”

Dick’s chest heaved, but he felt it constricting within, even against his own burgeoning lungs, hungry for air. As he looked down at his best friend since childhood, lightheaded and desperate and scared, his mind did not focus on what he would be losing if Wally died, but instead focused on what he himself needed to keep living: _The goofy nerd who has been his partner in crime(fighting) for almost half his life, the one who has his back even when he has to make the tough and controversial calls as a leader, the person who always remembers his birthday and who tells dumb jokes to cheer him up when he gets too ‘broody’, the smartest person he knows, the one who’s not afraid to do the right thing, the genuine friend that listens and cares and remembers and calls and visits, the sweet soul that wants to make everyone laugh and feel happy, the one who goes out of his way to let others know that they’re appreciated, the selfless hero that wants to save the world, the man Dick has been in love (and denial) with for the past two years_ …Clarity fell.

Dick grasped the bottle in between his fingers and tilted his own head back, taking a bit of the liquid into his mouth before leaning down, over Wally, and covering his lips with his own. With a slow but forceful propellant of breath and the controlled release of the water from where he held it behind his tongue like dam, Dick sent the water into Wally’s mouth, massaging Wally’s throat with the fingers of his free hand, urging and coaxing the muscles there to swallow. **_Please._**

It was then that Roy returned. He was empty-handed and looking worse for his attempts to salvage supplies and contact the League, but Dick didn’t take notice.

“ _ **Nightwing**_ ,” Roy barked, reprimanding. He needed Dick to take care of himself so that they could figure out a way to get them all out of their currently hostile coordinates. Wally didn’t stand a chance if they didn’t get out of here. Once the sun came up, none of them would. And they had zero resources left…

A choked, sobbing sound emanated from Dick’s throat. He was still kneeling over Wally, lips still sealed around the redhead’s, obviously trying to feed him the hydration that Roy had intended for him to drink. His eyes were closed and his expression anguished.

“Dick…” Roy said, feeling suddenly helpless in the face of his friends’ suffering. His confidence that he could figure a way out of this for them was waning. But he would try. He would do everything he could to protect these two. Always had. Always would. They were the family that he had chosen and that had chosen him back. And he would die for them if necessary.

Roy moved forward a bit, about to place a gentle hand on Dick’s shoulder, when he saw with surprise what Dick was already feeling.

Wally’s throat was moving, muscles working weakly to swallow.

Dick sat back suddenly, taking a swift gulp from the tiny vial, draining it, and quickly leaned back down to seal his lips against Wally’s once more.

Dick’s heartbeat had picked up. He felt it pounding in his ears with the sudden **hope**. _Wally’s going to be okay,_ he chanted in his head as he felt the water recede, accepted by Wally.

When he came back with more, he began once more the slow and controlled release of the water into Wally’s mouth, not wanting to risk gagging him or making him cough or choke and lose the last of the precious water. It was then, however, that he felt Wally awaken to his body’s actions. A tongue, seeking out the source of the much-needed hydration, came searching into Dick’s mouth. It sought with tentative touch, and upon finding the dam, massaged urgently and asked for more.

Dick obliged. He released the hold he had on his own tongue, allowing it to unfurl and the water to flow forth, available to Wally to take as he desired.

He swallowed it slowly but steadily, his hand finding its way to brace against Dick’s jaw as he secured the offered hydration. Once it was gone, the hand remained, holding Dick in place, as Wally’s tongue made several, final sweeps of Dick’s mouth.

+++

Dick awoke with a shiver, cold seeping into his skin and chilling him awake.

When his eyes opened to an unfamiliar ceiling, he bolted upright to take in his surroundings.

The watchtower’s medical unit.

One glance confirmed this. He heard the soft beeping of vitals in the room.

_Wally. Where was he._

“Wally,” Dick said in what came out as raw croak, jerking his head to the side to look for his best friend, and feeling it swim as a result of the sudden motion.

A gentle set of hands appeared and supported him firmly at the shoulder when dizziness and balance collided, the former overtaking the latter.

“Woah, Dick, he’s right here.”

Roy’s soft voice called Dick’s attention to the other side of his gurney. He looked past the archer, seeing Wally’s sleeping form on a similar bed, vitals glowing on the screen next to him.

“He’s okay,” Roy said, and Dick looked up into his face, concern and relief both residing there, right next to the guilt that Dick knew Roy was harboring. He always blamed himself even when he was the only reason they had survived.

“Thanks,” Dick croaked out before a coughing fit overtook him. He didn’t get to finish his sentiment, _Thanks to you, Roy,_ but it was more or less understood anyway.

Roy just shook his head tightly, thin-lipped and expression distant, and brought an arm around Dick’s shoulders, hugging him close, against his chest.

They stayed there for a minute, lingering in the relief of each other’s safety, both looking down upon Wally, each silently thanking the gods for his wellbeing.

“You should tell him,” Roy advised in a hushed tone.

Dick didn’t say anything. A moment went by, and then Roy felt him nod, once, against his chest.

Time was too precious to waste.


	11. Hurt!Wally & Dick  You go, I go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally gets injured on a mission and it's not looking too good.

“Rob…Just leave m–”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” Dick’s words came out harsh. He had meant them to. But the edge in his voice still startled his own ears as it left his mouth. He gripped Wally’s prone form by the bicep and shoulder more tightly, holding him at a slight incline, firmly against his red tunic.

“We’ll be fine. They’re coming.” Dick’s words, although intended to soften the blow from a moment before, were still too serious. He continued to ignore the option that Wally had tried to propose.

A few minutes passed, during which Dick’s grip on his best friend did not falter, in fact it tightened incrementally as though their lives depended on it, and maybe one of them did, who knew. His face held a hard edge, his chin too extended, his jaw too set and brow too furrowed. Although they were alone in the room, there was no guarantee that they were out of the woods, and the fact that only one of them was in fighting form made their chances of escaping another meta attack poor, if they were found.

With the intensity that only a bat can harbor, Dick’s body remained tense, ready to leap to protect his teammate. His stare was trained on the only entrance to room, unwavering. As Wally watched, he half expected to hear the wooden door burst into flames, Dick’s glare was so laser-focused.

Dick felt the soft sigh escape Wally’s lips, and although it made his fingers twitch against the yellow fabric that he clutched, he did not look to his friend.

Wally waited a moment and then started again. “Dick?” he half-whispered, knowing Dick’s strict rules about civilian names in the field, but feeling pretty confident that there was no one and nothing around to hear just then.

He watched as the white lenses of Robin’s domino narrowed ever so slightly and how hesitantly Dick looked to Wally’s face. His too pale face.

The hard edge did not go away, but Wally studied the face of his best friend for the signs he knew he would find. Indicators that belied his true emotions in that moment. And there they were.

Although Dick’s face looked somewhat angry and ready for battle, with the ease of someone who had been watching his face for years (and who had picked up some handy detective skills from his best friend), Wally immediately found what he knew would be there: the involuntary twitch below Dick’s left eye- it came out when he was scared or upset and trying not to show it- almost imperceptible but definitely causing his mask to jump on his cheek. And if Wally hadn’t been certain from that alone (which he was), there was also the pull of one side of his lower lip, indicating that Dick was biting it inside his mouth, a nervous habit in which he engaged when his mind was spiraling, trying desperately to come up with a plan when there were no viable resources.

“Hey,” Wally said, reaching up and touching Dick’s cheek with his fingertips where the skin twitched against the adhesive of his mask. “I’m not crazy for thinking it, you know.”

Dick’s face softened then, he looked instantly wounded and like he was about to burst into tears. He swallowed, looking like he was trying to fortify himself against his friends words, but still just ended up looking hurt and scared. He looked so young then.

“I could,” Wally started, but then paused when Dick’s eyes squeezed shut and he began shaking his head fast.

“Dick,” he touched his face again, stilling him. His thumb traced along the edge of the mask until Dick’s eyes relented and opened to Wally once more. “I could die,” he said gently, watching Dick’s face for the acknowledgement of this truth.

After that last round with that suped-up porccupine, Wally had lost a lot of blood and superfast healing or no, his vitals were not looking good then. Wally had had some time to deal with that. To get honest with himself and to face that reality. And really? It was a risk that he acknowledged and accepted every time he donned the currently tattered, yellow and red uniform.

Dick inhaled shakily then, and in the quietest voice as he looked at his friend said, “You go, I go, Wally.”

A smile spread on Wally’s face, sad but happy, knowing that he was powerless in this moment to change his friend’s mind, to help save him. But he couldn’t help bask in the feeling of love that enveloped him even as Dick’s arms enveloped him further and he hugged him more fully, shaking against Wally with his own quiet sobs of love and friendship and futility.


End file.
